


Pairbond

by AraSigyrn



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Statistically, 96.567% of the US population will enjoy an intimate pairbond relationship. 2.345% of the population will have a platonic pairbond relationship. 1.073% of the population will choose to break the pairbond through mutual consent or act of violence.</p>
<p>0.015% of the population will lose their pairbond partner or partners without ever meeting them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pairbond

**Author's Note:**

> Written for katekat's prompt on the Kradamadness kink meme.

Kris wakes up in hospital.  
  
His head hurts and he feels sick and there's a shivering feeling like that first time he asked Katie out. He's shaking, stomach churning like he's about to throw up. Kris opens his eyes and his hands are shaking. There are six doctors standing around him, grim faced and serious and Kris' heart skips a beat.  
  
 _Pairbond_ is the wholly unscientific term, there's Latin name that takes up four lines but Kris doesn't remember it. He also doesn't remember anyone telling him that pairbonding involved doctors.   
  
There's another term being whispered that he doesn't know at all but that makes his stomach clench all the same. ' _Pair-break_ ' There's pity in the eyes of the doctor who takes the seat by his bed and folds her hands carefully on the side of Kris' bed.  
  
His hands start to shake.  
  
~*~  
  
Kris goes to the _Idol_ audition three days after he signs the annulment papers. Cale drives him and that's ...uncomfortable. Kris rubs at the leather bracelet that covers the marks. He's not optimistic but hell, it's got to be better than selling shoes and going home to his parents' house to stare at the wall.  
  
He's honestly not expecting the call back and when he's handed his Golden Ticket, Kris can't believe it. It's a chance to rewrite the whole rest of his life and Kris stares at his ticket and feels hope for the first time since a therapist in Africa told him that his soul mate was dead.  
  
"Snap," a hand with purple nails and big silver rings holds out a matching Gold Ticket. "And also, hi! My name's Adam."  
  
~*~  
  
Danny...okay, yeah. Kris fucking hates Danny. Danny spends more time wallowing in his role as bereaved bonded. Kris _knows_ that it sucks but Danny had years with his wife. Kris doesn't even know what his soul mate's _name_ was or what happened. 154,889 people (on average) die every day. Kris will probably never know anything about the one person out there who was his perfect match.  
  
He hasn't told anyone in _Idol_ about it. He might tell Adam but the idea of having everyone watching know about the empty space where Kris used to keep his heart makes Kris want to puke.  
  
He leaves the room every time Danny opens his mouth.  
  
~*~  
  
When Adam gets 'outed', the handlers go nuts. Adam gets put under what's pretty much house arrest. Allison is sympathetic but solidarity loses out to shopping opportunities and by the second day, Kris is the only one who stays with him.  
  
"You don't wanna pick up souvenirs for your girlfriend?" Adam is draped across the couch, bored.   
  
"Don't have a girlfriend," Kris says tersely, shoulders tensing.  
  
"Seriously?!" Adam scoffs. "You're a good straight boy, how are you not- no, wait, let me guess, you're married or something right?"  
  
"I was," Kris rubs at the bracelet.  
  
"Was? Kris Allen, how did I not know you were divorced?" Adam's eyes are bright with mischief as he swings his legs off the couch. "Isn't that a sin?"  
  
"Annulment actually," Kris' hand tightens around the neck of the beer that Martin the nice security guy got him. "Pairbond mismatch."  
  
"Oh," Adam comes up behind him, wrapping his arms tight around Kris in a big totally unself-conscious hug. "I'm so sorry, baby."  
  
They don't talk about it again.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, is it different?" Anoop asks. "Kissing a guy?"  
  
"I don't know," Adam rolls his eyes. "I've never kissed a woman like I kiss a guy."  
  
They're all giddy, drunk with the contraband cocktails Adam smuggled in and Kris, Adam and Anoop are the only ones awake. Kris is there and mostly sober and even he has no idea how they go from talking about kissing guys to Adam crushing him against a wall, kissing him breathless, with a hand around Kris' cock and Kris is coming apart inch by inch as the world shudders in a million flashing lights.   
  
And he has no idea why it happens again (and again and again and again)....

 

~*~

 

It was Katy's idea to get married.   
  
Kris honestly hadn't been in any place to resist. After college, when he came home and they'd started seriously going, Kris had thought that maybe they were meant to be. He comes out of hospital hollow and reeling in shock and Katy is the one who drives him back to his parents' house.  
  
She has everything worked out, talking earnestly over the kitchen table while Kris stares out the window. (This is before he learns that most people never look farther than a smile and/or a friendly 'hello'.) His mom and dad are there but Daniel can't stay in the room with him.  
  
Kris doesn't blame him for being uncomfortable. Kris doesn't want to be in the same room as Kris any more. So he stares out the window and lets the conversation flow around him. He already knows that he's going to agree to whatever they decide because it doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more.  
  
~*~  
  
Adam never kisses him.  
  
It's a stupid thing to notice. Kris likes - _liked_ \- kissing. Even more than sex (sometimes) but Adam will kiss his neck or his cheek or his chin but never his mouth unless they're both dizzy and clinging together. Adam doesn't even kiss him properly then, which Kris is surprisingly bitter about.  
  
It's just a quick press of lips against his open mouth, like Adam can't help himself. Not enough to count, not really, but enough to make Kris aware of what's missing.  
  
He really should be used to making do.  
  
~*~  
  
The Idol tour is in San Francisco where Adam knows everyone when Allison meets Trix. Born Patricia Emmett Hine somewhere in Washington State, ze's one of the crazy wild people that Adam draws into his orbit.  
  
Ze's in butch drag which apparently means glam-rock's interpretation of Victorian evening dress for guys. Kris likes the top hat which is only about 10% latex. Adam drags him over to meet hir within five seconds of the press pack leaving them to haul their bags into the hotel.  
  
Allison comes bounding over and Kris feels a faint, itchy tingle as their eyes meet. "Ah shit."  
  
"Kris," Adam's smile is unfairly beautiful. "Language-"  
  
Kris ignores him, catching Allison's waist. "Hey, no. You can't do that, okay."  
  
"I-" Allison looks spaced out, sentence trailing into open-mouthed awe.  
  
"Jesus," Kris muttered. "Not in public, Allison, okay? Not with the tabloids just around the corner."  
  
"What-?"  
  
"Adam," Kris says through gritted teeth because Jesus Christ, they'd said he might be more sensitive but this is like having super-heated acid poured into his chest and god, they're going to be beautiful together, Kris can see it already, like a firework display. It's not like it's their fault Kris isn't standing a safe distance away. "Go call her mom and the handlers and the hospital, okay?"  
  
Adam hesitates and Kris snaps at him because it _hurts_ and it's hurting more every second. Kris hates himself a little (or a lot) because Allison's lighting up like Hollywood spotlights and he wants to be happy for her but every second this close is grinding the shards of his heart into his chest and he needs to get away.  
  
~*~  
  
"Hey, Kris!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What's the stupidest thing you've ever done?"  
  
"...."  
  
"C'mon man, it's your turn."  
  
"Maybe I've done a lot of stupid things."  
  
"Bullshit, man. You're like, Mr. Sensible"  
  
".....marrying my best friend instead of checking into an insane asylum."   
  
~*~  
  
Kris has to stay for the conversation with Allison's mom because Danny does. He's curled in on himself, both hands pressed against his temples as his brain tries to explode and he's in so much pain that he has to swallow back bile. He's just glad he didn't eat anything or he'd be throwing up and there'd be nobody to counter Danny's careful insinuations.  
  
They've never spoken about pairbonding before. It's never come up and Kris wishes he hadn't run from every conversation because Danny's condescending to him and assuring Allison's mom that being without Trix won't that hard. Kris' stomach hurts and he presses his forehead against Adam's shoulder for a second, hoarding strength.  
  
"Danny, shut the fuck up."  
  
Danny stammers and Kris doesn't give him a chance to argue. "You were bonded. Now, you're not. Tell me that you didn't treasure every second that you got to spend with her, I fucking dare you."  
  
"....but she was my wife!"   
  
"And Trix is to her what your wife was to you," Kris is rubbing the leather bracelet. "That's ...that's everything, man. Every second counts and every second you can have together is a gift. Stop helping other people try to fuck it up."  
  
Danny goes very quiet and Adam's breathing against his neck, warm and solid. Kris is going to get drunk after this. Kris is going to get _hammered_ after this and fuck 19 and the media and the world.  
  
"Yeah," Danny says eventually. "Yeah, you're right."

 

~*~  
  
Statistically, 96.567% of the US population will enjoy an intimate pairbond relationship. 2.345% of the population will have a platonic pairbond relationship. 1.073% of the population will choose to break the pairbond through mutual consent or act of violence.  
  
0.015% of the population will lose their pairbond partner or partners without ever meeting them.  
  
~*~  
  
Adam doesn't find Kris that night. He and Danny wind up in the lobby, curled into chairs with empty bottles collecting on the stupid little table and the floor. Kris doesn't know what they talk about, remembers splinters of words later but Danny, the media-ready smirk cracked open to show the hollow ache inside, stays with him.  
  
After, they still don't talk much but now the silence is easy like the words don't need to be said.  
  
~*~  
  
Adam likes skin, Kris figures out early in this thing - whatever it is - between them. His hands will slide up under Kris' t-shirt or down the back of his pants. Even when he's not making Kris' whole nervous system spark, Adam likes to slip his fingers inside the collar of Kris' shirt or crook his thumb under the waistband of his jeans.  
  
If it was anyone else, Kris would be shy. He thinks he would. Even Katy never got so close and they were married for an empty eternity of time.  
  
Adam can strip away the careful layers Kris wraps around the void in his chest and Kris never feels exposed. He lets Adam map his skin with fingers and tongue like Adam owns him. He'll let Adam 'lose' his boxers during Rock Week with nothing but a smile to show he's noticed.  
  
Kris doesn't understand why that isn't enough. He doesn't understand why Adam can't be satisfied with the rest of him instead of focusing the six square inches of skin that even Kris doesn't look at.  
  
He tied the thong of the leather bracelet, just loose enough to allow circulation, the morning that the therapist offered it to him. It's plain braided leather, just wide enough to cover the raw-red pattern on the inside of his wrist.  
  
Adam can have his skin. Kris just wants to keep his scars.  
  
~*~  
  
"Hey, Kris, one wish. No limits, no wishing for more wishes. What'd you wish for?"  
  
"You are wasted, dude."  
  
"I swear to drunk, I'm not God."  
  
"That's for damn sure."  
  
"Seriously, man! What would you wish for?"  
  
"I'd wish...I wish I could have met them. I wish I had something I could remember."  
  
~*~  
  
Kris figures out that he can't be near Allison the hard way. She and Trix spend a weekend locked up together and Kris spends the time steeling himself against what's coming. He is grimly determined that he will be happy for her. He wishes that Adam would stay close but Adam has put a deliberate stretch of silence between them and Kris doesn't have the strength to reach out right now.  
  
He doesn't realize - doesn't _know_ because no-one ever told him - that it isn't just loneliness. No-one in the whole mad Idol circus knows, so no-one is ready when Kris' battered, ravaged heart just quits.  
  
There's no warning. The buses are loaded, the last few sleepy Allison is smiling, shining with happiness and she's holding out her arms for hugs. Kris lets Adam pass him out, sucking in a sharp breath. There's a thump, like someone punched him in the chest and knocked all the air out. Kris rocks backwards, mouth opening but his lungs don't work and his whole chest is knotted up tight.  
  
He doesn't even have the breath to call out before he falls.

~*~

_Imagine a tent, littered with bottles, a vivid jewel of colors in the middle of a desert of black and washed out grey. It smells of sweat and dust and the stink of a week of living wild. It's like a home except it's not that either. It's two halves of a home that don't belong to the same whole.  
  
There have been people, leaving footprints in the sand and cigarette ash in the tent. There's a fire burning and all the sky isn't big enough to hold the emotions between the two men sitting not quite together.  
  
One of them, who paints his nails purple and his hair black, is drunk. The other, with purple tipped-hair, who broke his heart is high. They're nearly back to being friends in the daylight but at night, the hurt and the heartbreak come spilling out.  
  
The black-haired man drinks too much and hides behind a wide smile and a painted mask of sun lotion and make-up. He's very drunk tonight because even the fruit juice has fermented and he doesn't try to filter himself.   
  
He doesn't believe in love any more. He doesn't believe in pairbonds and he doesn't want a stranger. (He wants the man beside him but if he can't have the one he wants, he doesn't want anyone.) He wants to be his own person and because of where (and when) they are, that can be arranged._  
  
~*~  
  
USC Medical Center has the world's leading Pair Dependency Treatment Unit. Kris knew this but it's a very different thing to wake up in ICU with a loose, floating feeling where the horrible ache has been since the last time he woke up in hospital.  
  
There's a nurse in pale blue scrubs who makes him think of his momma and it's only when he tries to say hi that he realizes there's a tube down his throat. There are needles in his arms and he's tied to the bed with Velcro restraints. Something's beeping in the room but Kris can't focus on anything.  
  
Kris is also on the really, really good drugs. He doesn't feel _anything_ anymore. There's a lot of talking going on but Kris can't make sense of any of it.  
  
He's just so tired.  
  
~*~  
  
"Although the physiological grounding for the pairbond connection is still not fully understood, methods for severing the bond have been known since the Middle Ages. These methods have a very high mortality rate and are considered heretical by the Abrahamic religions.  
  
Where the true difficulty arises is when the sundering of the bond is non-consensual or one-sided. The pairbond affinity cannot be rewired and proximity to their sundered partner or an unattached partner will cause serious psychological distress which can manifest physically in depression-like symptoms, ulcers, elevated blood pressure and similar complaints."  
\- High School Textbook  
  
~*~  
  
When Kris wakes up again, the tube is gone. So are the drugs.   
  
Instead, Adam's sitting beside him, holding his left hand. Kris can feel his thumb rubbing across the raised pattern. Kris tries to pull away but can only twitch his arm weak and feeble.  
  
"I am sorry," Adam's voice sounds like he's been gargling gravel and jack for the last month and when Kris focuses on his face, there's no make-up and big grey circles under his eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry, Kris."  
  
He keeps apologizing, over and over and over. Kris learns the whole sorry mess in disjointed chunks that he has to work to understand. He doesn't need Adam to tell him, not when he can see the raw lines of the pattern under Adam's tattoo. Adam's terror/regret/grief keeps jolting through him and Kris closes his hand around Adam's fingers. His skin feels like paper under Kris' fingers.  
  
Kris wants to hate Adam for what he did. Maybe he does, a little. There's a lot of years there that Adam owes him for but Kris is so tired of being alone. No-one's ever made him feel like Adam does.  
  
He rolls his hand to thread their fingers together and squeezes as tight as he can.  
  
~*~  
  
Life isn't a fairytale.   
  
Adam hogs the bathroom, loves going to loud clubs and hates Kris' clothes. Kris fills the fridge with greasy food, sees nothing wrong with going out in yesterday's shirt and watches the game every Sunday with a six-pack. When they fight, it's screaming histrionics and quiet Southern jabs. They argue over chores and tour schedules and who forgot to vacuum in the studio that takes up the whole basement.  
  
They go to big public events; Kris smart and demure, Adam flamboyant and fabulous and hold hands the whole way up the red carpet. They each write albums of wildly different music and sing new songs to each other across the breakfast table. They go to San Diego for Hanukkah and Conway for Christmas. Adam is there when Kris flies back to Arkansas to be godfather to Katy's first kid, a tiny girl with her mother's smile.  
  
It's not a fairytale or a happy ending. It's messy, complicated and frustrating and Kris wouldn't change it for the world.

 


End file.
